Unfinished Letters
by CopperKettle
Summary: Tutoring 6-year-old Gohan sounds easy enough, but Hana soon ends up with a LOT more than she signed on for. And to make matters worse, she might just be falling for the abrasive and intimidating Piccolo. What'll she do when she discovers something about him that changes their entire dynamic? (Eventual Piccolo/OC)
1. Chapter 1

A firm knock on the bedroom door startled Gohan out of a daydream. "Gohan," his mother called, "I brought you a snack to help you study. I'm coming in, okay?" He rubbed at his eyes and stared at the papers in front of him, all of them littered with doodles of dragons and giant fish and spaceships. Not a single one of his math problems were finished. The door opened just as he slid the heavy textbook over the pages.

"O-oh, hey, mom," he said, trying to sound casual.

Chi-Chi set carrot sticks and a glass of juice on the desk and stroked her son's hair. "Getting long again," she said with a sigh. "I'll find the shears and give you a cut before your bath tonight."

Gohan groaned and slouched in his chair. "But mom, I like my hair this way."

"You look so handsome when I cut it, though," she said, already snipping at the black strands with her middle and index fingers. "I know you didn't like the haircut I gave you before you left for Namek, but I'll give you a cool one this time. I promise."

Gohan had a suspicion that his mother's definition of cool wasn't going to be the same as his own, but after a resigned huff he said, "Sure, okay."

"So how's the schoolwork coming?" she asked. She moved before he could react, lifting the text book to reveal his hours worth of drawings. Gohan simply stared at the papers, preparing himself for the verbal onslaught. "WHAT IS THIS? Have you been neglecting your studies all afternoon? Gohan? Look at me! This is the third time this week you've slacked off like this, Gohan. What do I have to do to get you to care about your education, huh? Well?"

She caught a glimpse of Piccolo through the window as he took a seat beneath a tree in the front yard and waited for his pupil.

"You want to end up like him?" she continued to scream. "Some good-for-nothing hoodlum who might as well be a beggar? Who has no marketable skills? How much money do you think Piccolo makes in a year? I'll tell you – zero. He's dirt poor and he comes over here expecting a roof over his head and food on his plate. Well I'll tell you something—"

"Piccolo doesn't eat," said Gohan. "He drinks water."

But Chi-Chi didn't skip a beat. "And who pays the water bill for the water he drinks? We do, that's who! Nothing but trouble and inconsideration, Gohan. I don't know what you see in him but I hope you grow out of it soon. He's a bad influence."

"He's not, mom, really. You just gotta get to know him."

"I'd rather get to know a slug. A spider. Anything but him." She slammed her palm down on the math book and put a pencil in Gohan's hand. "You're finishing all of these problems before training with Piccolo, understand? I don't care if it's dark out by the time you're done."

Gohan nodded bleakly and Chi-Chi left, shutting the door forcefully behind her. He supposed he did bring it on himself, allowing his mind to drift off and get distracted. But ever since returning from Namek, things like schoolwork and studying seemed insignificant, meaningless. All he wanted to do was train his body, train to fight so he could help more effectively when the next threat arrived.

Piccolo lifted his chin and gave Gohan a questioning glance, but Gohan shook his head and pointed to his text book. The Namek rose to his feet and came to the window, leaning against the sill. "No training yet?" he asked, knowing full well there wasn't. It wasn't hard to hear Chi-Chi, especially with his ears.

"Not until I do my math problems."

"Gohan, you and I both know this is more important. Your father still hasn't returned yet. Vegeta is gone. You may just be the most potentially powerful person on Earth." Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "You need more training."

"I know I do, but my mom—"

"She can wait. If she takes issue with it, I'll talk to her."

Relieved that someone else might shoulder some of his mother's anger, Gohan hopped up from the desk and threw off his school jacket and trousers. He'd made himself another gi as soon as he got home from space, and this one was even better-sewn than the last. He tugged it on and turned to Piccolo for approval, posing with fists at his waist. "Do you like it?"

Piccolo smirked. "You're dressed like me, kid. What's not to like?"

.

* * *

.

The moon was out and bright by the time training ended for the day. Gohan couldn't help feeling a bit nostalgic for the year he'd spent exclusively under Piccolo's guidance. Every night sitting together by the campfire had been so peaceful—and even though his mother and father had been absent, in their place was a strange new friend and a blossoming sense of pride he'd never felt in himself before.

If schoolwork ever gave him the same feeling, perhaps his mother would be happier with him.

"She might be asleep already," said Gohan just outside the back door. "I kinda hope so. I don't wanna get yelled at."

Piccolo put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I'm coming in with you, remember? Open the door."

They slunk into the house and found the living room lamp still on. Chi-Chi sat on the sofa, mending a seam in one of Gohan's shirts. "Did you come home late because you thought I'd be in bed?" she asked. She didn't take her eyes off her sewing.

"M-Mom, I can explain what happened, I just—"

"I persuaded him to come with me." Piccolo stepped between them, his impressive shape blocking the lamplight. Chi-Chi put the shirt in her lap and glared up at him.

"Just where do you get off undermining—" She stopped, relaxed her fists, took a deep breath. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Since Gohan obviously is having trouble focusing on his studies, and I can't hover over him all hours of the day, I've come up with a plan."

Gohan peered around Piccolo's cape. "What do you mean, mom? What plan?"

"Oh, you'll see." Chi-Chi seemed rather pleased with herself and crossed her arms over her chest. "Tomorrow afternoon."

.

* * *

.

A clunky blue car pulled up to the Son house around noon. Chi-Chi was positively glowing with excitement as she leapt up to answer the doorbell. Gohan leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table to better see who was on the front porch. "You're here!" said Chi-Chi. "Thank you for agreeing to come at such short notice, but you're sorely needed. Please, please, come in!"

As his mother moved away from the door, an unfamiliar woman entered the house. She dressed casual and young like a high school student, though she must have been at least a couple years older than that if she was teaching professionally.

"Gohan, this is Miss Hana," said Chi-Chi. "She's going to be your tutor."

"Tutor?" Gohan got up from the table so he could bow properly. The woman, Hana, bowed back, brown hair spilling over her shoulders. And when she straightened up again and got a good look at her student's face, she lit up with a gasp.

"It's you!" She grabbed his hand in hers and shook him so enthusiastically that he nearly bounced. "I recognize you from the TV! You were there fighting those awful aliens that attacked the city, right? That was amazing. I couldn't believe how brave you were."

Gohan went a little pink. "Wow, thank you!"

Chi-Chi cleared her throat and fixed the two of them with an accusatory stare. "Miss Hana, I've hired you specifically to keep my son's attentions on his schooling instead of martial arts."

This time Hana bowed to her employer as deeply as she could muster. "I apologize. We'll get started right away." She turned to Gohan and slid her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. "I brought a lot of books with me, so I hope you're ready to learn. I'm certainly ready to teach."

"That's what I like to hear," said Chi-Chi. "Get started right away, you two. Hana, Gohan's room is just down the hall on your left. Work hard, okay? And in a couple hours I'll bring in some lunch."

"How kind of you, Miss Chi-Chi, thank you," said Hana. She laid a hand gently on Gohan's shoulder and led him down the hall and into the bedroom. "So, where would you like to set up?" She dumped the backpack from her shoulders and it hit the carpet with a floor-shaking thud. "And what would you like to start with? Biology? Math? Grammar?"

Gohan approached the backpack and peeked inside. "You mean you don't have a set lesson?" he asked.

"Nope. I think it works out better if the student does the dictating over what they learn and how they learn it."

He laughed a little. "Are you sure my mom hired you?"

She laughed too. "Aw, your mom's a walk in the park compared to some other mothers I've worked for."

"Really?" Gohan almost couldn't imagine mothers more demanding and overbearing than his own. "How many other kids have you taught?"

Hana thought for a second while counting on her fingers. "Well, I started tutoring right out of high school and kept going through college, so, let's see…ah, six. And you make seven. Lucky number seven!"

Gohan settled on grammar for the afternoon and they spent the better part of the lesson making up silly sentences and correcting them for spelling and punctuation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun with a text book present.

After lunch and a refresher course on nouns, adjectives, and verbs, Hana noticed Gohan's eyes routinely sweeping to the open window. "Y'know, I realize this is mostly stuff you know and it's kinda boring, but it's good to stay sharp," she said.

"Oh, sorry, it's not that." He looked at his watch. "It's just that it's almost time for Mr. Piccolo to come and get me."

Hana wasn't exactly sure what that meant. "And Mr. Piccolo is…a real person?"

"Of course," Gohan said with a chuckle. "My mom didn't mention him?"

"Nope." Now she was curious if the omission was intentional.

"We train together. I'm gonna grow up and be the strongest fighter in the world just like my dad, and he's helping me."

Hana leaned in closer to him. She wanted to ask this as delicately as she could. "Where _is_ your dad, anyway, Gohan? What happened to him?"

"Oh, he's still in outer space somewhere," was Gohan's casual reply. "We all had to fight someone really strong on a planet called Namek, and when the planet blew up he escaped the explosion and now he's on a different planet. I hope when he comes home he'll show me all the new moves he learned!"

Hana had way too many questions now. Why had they been on Namek? Who did they fight? How did Namek explode? How did Gohan know his dad was in space and not just dead? She knew better than to ask the latter, but the others had her imagination racing. The memory of Chi-Chi's death-glare, however, kept her from inquiring.

The sunlight disappeared from the room. Hana swiveled the chair towards the window and was met with an unfamiliar face. An unfamiliar…_green_ face. The broad-shouldered figure stood there silently, blocking the sun. Hana couldn't help staring at his turban and his flowing cape that caught the afternoon breeze. She wondered if he knew how menacing he looked. Of course he must have. Still, there was something awfully familiar about him.

"Mr. Piccolo, you're here!" Gohan hopped up and went for the purple gi already laid out on his bed. "Gimme just a sec, Mr. Piccolo, and I'll be right there."

"Wait, I recognize you," said Hana suddenly. "You were on TV fighting those aliens, too. Yeah, yeah, I definitely remember you."

"Gohan, who is this?" Piccolo asked, directing his question over her head.

"That's Miss Hana," Gohan replied. He tied the sash around his middle and slipped on a little pair of soft brown boots. "She's my new tutor."

Piccolo scowled and exhaled hard for added emphasis. "So that's Chi-Chi's plan, huh." He turned his back to the window. "Well, it's of no consequence. Let's get going, Gohan. We need to reach the valley before the sun gets much lower."

"Yes, sir!"

"No, stop!" said Hana, putting out her palms to keep her student from leaving. "You can't go now. We're not finished with today's grammar lesson yet."

"_Grammar_?" Piccolo whirled on her in anger, earning a startled cry. He slammed his hands down on the window sill and threw his imposing upper bulk into the bedroom. "If you saw the broadcast of our battle with the Saiyans, then you know just how important it is that we have capable people protecting this planet at all times. Right now, our greatest chance against a possible threat is lightyears away, and I refuse to just sit idly by and wait for his return. Gohan _must_ be trained."

Hana stood and slammed her own hands against the desk. "I understand that, it's just that I need to—to—" Her voice faltered as she felt her pulse thudding with panic in her chest. And Piccolo's unflinching stare wasn't letting up. "L-Look, sparring with you and avoiding schoolwork isn't going to help Gohan in the long run. He's a child. He needs an education."

"That's not my concern." Piccolo remained there, unmoving, arms folded in front of his chest. Hana might as well have been trying to argue with a slab of concrete. At least the concrete wouldn't have been as frightening.

She attempted a different approach. "Please," she said. "I'm a teacher. Let me teach my student. And after I'm done, which will be soon, I'll be more than happy to allow you both to train together."

Gohan nodded. "I suppose we can do th—"

"No. Let's go, Gohan. Now."

Hana grit her teeth. She'd never met anyone so stubborn in her life. Was he refusing to listen to reason on purpose? Had she done something to offend him already and this was his means of striking back? It just didn't make sense. But she had one more idea.

"You care for Gohan, don't you?" she asked.

Piccolo didn't uncross his arms, but something in his irritated expression seemed to soften. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sure you do," Hana continued. "It's clear you've been Gohan's master for quite some time. He even has a gi that matches yours. You can't stand there and tell me you don't have any affection for the boy."

This got much more of a reaction. A dark pink blush bloomed in the tips of Piccolo's ears just before he turned his back to the window. "What business is that of yours, anyway?" he snapped. "And for the record, I don't have 'affection' for anyone. He's my student. That's it."

Hana looked to Gohan, hoping that Piccolo's words hadn't upset him. But the boy just grinned and shrugged his shoulders as if to say that's just how his master was.

"He's your student," said Hana. "That's exactly it. Now he's my student, too. I want him to grow up and have opportunities at his disposal. He can't fight all the time. He can't train all the time."

"Why not? That's how _I_ live."

"And that's what you want for Gohan, too? Or don't you want him to become something better?"

For a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of papers fluttering on the desk. Hana's stomach tied itself into a series of elaborate knots as she anticipated more anger. At last Piccolo faced her again, but his expression was a mask of restraint. A wealth of unspoken curses clawed and chewed just behind pursed lips. "Twenty minutes," he said. "But that's it."

Hana heard him muttering under his breath as he left to sit beneath a tree and wait. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed into her chair.

"Are you okay?" Gohan asked. "I know Piccolo can be a little intimidating."

Hana grumbled but tried to sound amused. "A _little_?"

"Well…"

She opened her notebook, ignoring how her fingers were shaking. "C'mon, we've got twenty minutes. Let's make 'em count."

.

* * *

_._

_Thanks a bunch for reading - I appreciate it! Chapter 2 coming shortly._


	2. Chapter 2

The weeks that followed proved to be a great deal easier than that initial day. Piccolo didn't come to the window to fetch his pupil in the late afternoons, opting instead to meditate outside and cough sporadically to let Hana know he was still there and was not pleased with the situation. The time spent with Gohan was quickly becoming Hana's favorite part of the day. For being so young he was incredibly bright and grasped new concepts more easily than any kid she'd ever taught. And even aside from his brilliance, he was just fun to be around.

His mother was another story, but Chi-Chi, oddly enough, had taken quite a shine to her. Hana wished she could say the same. Still, she wasn't about to complain about being in her employer's good graces.

Chi-Chi found her so likeable in fact, or was perhaps desperate enough for company, that she invited Hana over early one morning for tea and sweet rolls before Gohan's lesson.

"No, Gohan's not home right now," said Chi-Chi when asked. "He's been doing so well during his tutoring sessions with you that I decided to let him train with Piccolo this morning as a reward. He promised me they'd be back here by noon, though, but we'll see I suppose. That Piccolo doesn't even own a watch, y'know. It's absurd."

Hana smiled around the edge of her teacup. It was beginning to amuse her just how often Chi-Chi managed to work slights against Piccolo into conversation.

Noon came and went. By the time it was quarter-to-one, Chi-Chi had lost her cool. "Unforgiveable. I can't believe they would do this. I give Piccolo an inch and he thinks he's a ruler. Just what is he playing at?" She huffed and went to the kitchen windows. "I swear, when they get back…"

"Where are they exactly?" Hana asked. "I could always drive over there and see what they're up to. Who knows, maybe something went wrong and they need help."

Chi-Chi snapped her fingers. "That has to be it! They're training in the valley just a few miles south of here. You go check that out, and I'll wait here just in case they show up while you're gone."

"Gotcha." Hana shoved another sweet roll into her mouth for the road and ran out to her car, waving goodbye as she drove off.

The drive took her down a dirt road that turned into more of a dirt path. It wound around the base of some wide mountains and then began to decline when she entered the valley. The landscape seemed like an ideal place to train. The terrain was level for the most part but littered with twisting rock formations and gatherings of trees.

She squinted through the windshield and kept an eye on the rear-view mirror. So far there was no sign of them. Maybe they went back to the Son house already. Hana put the car in park and got out to call for them and listen for signs of fighting. "HEY GOHA—"

A blast cracked through the air like lightning. It pierced the rocks nearby, fracturing the stone and exploding it outwards. Hana threw arms over her head and dove down by the bumper of her car. Glass shattered across her back. The car alarm screamed. Beneath her feet it felt as if the ground would give way. Hana wailed and covered her ears.

She wasn't sure how long it took, but finally there was silence.

"Miss Hana?" A hand on her shoulder. "Miss Hana." Arms helping her to stand.

Hana slumped against the hood of her car. Gohan was there beside her picking shards of glass from her hair. "What happened?" she asked. "What the hell was that?"

Piccolo answered from somewhere behind her. _"__Makankōsappō__." _He swept past, the soft fabric of his cape brushing her arm. "You shouldn't have come down here."

"You guys are late so I told Chi-Chi I'd find you."

"We're late?" This was news to Gohan. "Mr. Piccolo, did you know?" But Piccolo's reply was merely a frown and a growl.

Hana traced a dent in the hood, one of many. "Oh, my poor car."

Piccolo bristled and made fists at his side. "That's your own fault. You knew we were training. You can't expect us to notice—" He grimaced in disgust, turning his head away from her. "Tch. And now you're crying?"

She wiped her eyes, surprised when she saw the water on her fingertips. "Oh gosh. I-I'm fine. Really. Must just be the adrenaline wearing off." She tried to smile but wasn't terribly convincing as tears continued to roll down her face. "Super professional of me, right? Wh-where are my keys? I should go tell Chi-Chi you guys are okay."

"The car's not going to work," said Piccolo.

Hana froze with her hands in her pockets. "What? Why?"

"Even though it wasn't hit directly, it was close enough to the makankōsappō that I'm willing to bet its insides are fried."

"No, no, no." Hana hurried to pop the hood, staring then in disbelief at the coils of smoke rising from the battery and the various wires and melting hoses. "You gotta be kidding me. I just finished paying this off." She sunk to her knees in the charred grass and heaved an exhausted sigh.

"Mr. Piccolo can take you." Gohan glanced back and forth between the two adults. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind flying you to my house, and you can call a tow truck from there."

Hana lifted her head. "Flying? Me?"

"Yeah," said Gohan. "C'mon, Mr. Piccolo. It's the least you can do."

Piccolo was making a concerted effort not to look at her. "Fine. I guess we can't just leave her out here. On your feet, girl."

Slowly, hesitantly, Hana righted herself and rubbed the last of her tears from her cheeks. "All right, uh—" She walked to Piccolo's side, feeling small in his presence. It wasn't difficult considering his towering height. "How do you want to, um, carry me? I'm not picky, I guess. Whichever way works best for y—" He reached down, sweeping her off the ground in one dizzying move and holding her princess-style. He still wasn't looking at her.

A split-second later the three of them were airborne. Hana felt a sick drop in the pit of her stomach and her hair whipped around her ears. She grabbed fistfuls of Piccolo's gi, pressing her face into his chest. She didn't exactly care to see just how high up they'd risen. "Would you quit squirming?" he barked.

"I-I've never flown before," she shouted, half-muffled.

"Open your eyes and look. It'll help."

Hana let her eyes crack open as she craned her neck to see. There were clouds out in front of them. Rolling white clouds that stretched on forever. Below them everything rushed past so quickly. She recognized the dirt road she had driven earlier, though from up here it was so small it could hardly be discerned from the rest of the dirt. After a deep, calming breath she allowed herself to relax a little in his arms. His muscles flexed against her in response, keeping her secure and close. And now that she noticed it, she was so very, very close to him.

"That _did_ help," she said. "Thank you."

He made a low vocalization of acknowledgement in his throat.

The Son house appeared after a stretch of forest. Piccolo angled his feet down and descended hard. Too hard. Hana cried out again and her ears popped just as they struck the ground. "Ouch, that was rough," she said. Suddenly the arms around her fell limp. She dropped like a sack of potatoes at Piccolo's feet, rubbing her tailbone. "What was that for?"

With a showy sweep of his cape, he turned from the house and lifted into the air.

Gohan landed next to Hana and yelled up at his mentor. "Mr. Piccolo, wait! Where're you going?" But Piccolo had already flown away again. "What's he thinking? You okay, Miss Hana?"

Hana got up and wrenched her back straight. The image of Piccolo in the sky grew smaller and smaller until it finally vanished from sight altogether. She didn't understand him. Not in the slightest. "Yeah," she said. "But I think I need to sit down."

.

* * *

.

Hana sunk into the hot water until her lips were submerged. This was easily the strangest bath she'd ever taken, floating in a tall metal drum suspended over an open fire. Outside. In the back yard of her employer's home. Still, the birds were singing and the air carried the delicate scent of peach blossoms from the trees planted close by. The warmth of the afternoon sun beat down on the top of her head. Eventually, a pleasant calm slowly began to seep into her weary bones.

"Did he say he would pay for it?" said Chi-Chi, storming out the back door. She'd been ranting about Piccolo ever since Hana and Gohan returned from the valley.

Hana raised her mouth from the water. "For what?"

"For the tow truck. The damage to the car, too. It's entirely his fault. I can't believe he would just take off like that and leave you to pick up the pieces. Selfish, selfish man." She placed a towel and some clothing on the grass beside the stepladder that leaned on the drum. "I've got Gohan studying in the living room, so you've got your privacy, don't worry. We're the only house for miles."

"Thanks, Miss Chi-Chi. Sorry about this."

"You're not the one who needs to apologize. But I doubt Piccolo ever would. Never has before." She was quiet for a moment, the quietest Hana had seen her. There must've been quite a story in that silence. "Anyway, I'll let you soak. Your clothes should be dry in a few hours, but I gave you one of my robes in the meantime." She left then, sliding the back door shut and untying the curtains.

Hana plunged herself underwater and raked fingers through her hair. The dull roar of the fire underneath the bath echoed in her ears. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on the sound, willing the rest of the world away. After everything that had happened earlier, it was nice to block it all out for a little while.

She soaked until the sticks in the fire burnt themselves out. The bath was already beginning to cool. Hana searched the area, investigating every shadow to ensure her privacy. Once she knew for sure the coast was clear she hoisted herself carefully over the rim of the drum and stepped down the short ladder.

She shook the excess water from her hair and wrung it out with the towel. Chi-Chi's robe fit comfortably enough, if not a touch snug at the waist. The intense floral pattern wasn't doing her any favors either. She tied the sash tight into a bow at her hip and picked up the towel to bring it inside.

"You," came a gruff voice from overhead. "Girl."

Hana jolted and looked up to see Piccolo there in the air. She pulled the robe tighter across her collarbone. "How long have you been there?"

He landed a few meters away. "I have no desire to see you undressed, if that's what you're implying."

She hated the heat that gathered in her cheeks. "Look, just say what you came to say so I can go inside and sit down. My back's killing me."

"I'm sorry. For dropping you."

Hana thought at first that she had misheard him. "Wh-what?"

An angry blush crept over the bridge of Piccolo's nose and once again he broke eye contact. "I'm sorry, all right? I won't say it a third time."

She rested hands on her hips. "Well, I must say, I'm kinda wondering what brought this on. Because Chi-Chi told me you never apologize for anything."

"Chi-Chi doesn't know me half as well as she likes to think."

Hana dredged up every foul word and phrase Chi-Chi had used to describe Piccolo in the last week alone. And yet, in spite of what Hana had assumed, here he was, saying sorry. "Hm. Apparently she doesn't."

Piccolo cleared his throat, changing the subject. "So how will you get home?"

"When I called for a tow truck they said the driver would be able to swing by and get me."

"Oh. That's good." Their eyes met for the briefest instant before he darted his away. "And, uh, sorry for saying it was your fault. Y'know. With your car."

"That's fine," Hana said with a laugh. "It wasn't your fault either. Just a weird accident."

"So we're on the same page, then."

"Seems that way."

Satisfied, Piccolo rose off the ground, but he hovered there for a moment longer. "I really didn't see anything. Wasn't trying to. Just want to make that clear."

"I know." And she did know.

"Good. By the way, you, uh, you look—" He chewed on the words, unsure if he wanted to finish that thought.

"What?" she asked as she tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear. "I look what?"

Piccolo crossed his arms with a snort. "You—you look ridiculous." And he rocketed into the clouds.

Hana shook her head at the sky and threw the towel over her shoulder. "Wow, what a jerk." Still, she couldn't help but grin. She got an apology, after all.

.

* * *

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_Thanks for continuing to read, y'all! I'm still in the process of writing this story, but I'm a couple chapters ahead of what I'm posting, so the next chapter will be up in a few days to give myself a decent-sized buffer._


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks passed with little further excitement. The weather warmed as summer slowly started to overtake spring. Keeping Gohan's focus on his textbooks and lessons proved more difficult in the face of the increasing heat. Even Hana found her mind drifting in and out in spite of her best efforts.

Gohan put the book down in his lap and sighed. "It's too hot in here to read," he said. He stood and went to the window, closing his eyes and letting the breeze ruffle his newly-trimmed bangs. Watching him gave Hana an idea.

"Why don't we read outside, then?"

Gohan turned to her with a grin. "Can we really?"

They took some books and a picnic blanket from the hall closet and found a shady spot beneath a peach tree on a little hill beside the house. Gohan spread out on his stomach as Hana rested against the trunk. "What a beautiful day," she said. "It doesn't seem right to continue with _1984_ with this weather, does it? Why don't we pick _Walden _back up? Do you remember where we were? I think we were almost finished."

Gohan flipped through the novel and stopped on a page. "The beginning of chapter seventeen."

They read to each other, trading off paragraphs and stopping every once in a while to discuss what was written. Hana listened intently when Gohan read, making sure to help with a few of the more difficult words. ("Try to break it up and sound it out that way. Phe-no-me-na. Yeah, you got it.") It still amazed her that he was only six and already read better than she had as a teenager. And his comprehension was unreal.

Gohan was nearly done with a paragraph when he stopped suddenly and swiveled his head around, searching the area.

"What is it?" Hana asked.

"I feel Mr. Piccolo's ki, but I don't see him anywhere."

Hana laughed softly. "Haven't you noticed that he's been avoiding me? He barely says two words to me when I pass you off to him."

"How come? Are you guys mad at each other or something?"

"_I'm_ not," she said. "Who knows what his deal is."

Piccolo stepped out from behind the peach tree. "I'm not avoiding you." It was hot enough outside to keep him from wearing his heavy cape and turban. His neck and chest glistened with sweat as if he'd been training by himself moments before. Hana wanted not to stare…but stare she did.

"Come sit with us," she offered. "We're just finishing _Walden_."

"What?"

"It's a book. By Thoreau."

"Throw?"

"_Tho_reau."

Piccolo grumbled and eased down onto the corner of the blanket. "That's what I said." Gohan snickered and earned himself a dirty look from his teacher.

Hana took over where Gohan left off in the book. Between sentences she peered in Piccolo's direction just to see if he was following the narrative, but he appeared to be meditating instead. The wind was strong enough to sometimes flutter the antennae on his forehead, and she held back her giggles to keep from disturbing him. He already seemed in a foul mood. She had no desire to piss him off further.

"A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener," she read after Gohan completed another paragraph. "So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts."

The wind blew harder and whipped her hair into her eyes. She sputtered, her place in the book briefly lost. She wrangled her unruly mane and draped it down over one shoulder and, as she continued to read, went to work braiding it into something more manageable.

"We should be blessed if we live in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty." Hana noticed out the corner of her eye the way Piccolo was staring at her now. She made one last twist in her hair as he followed the movement of her fingers. Her eyes snapped back to the page. "We…we loiter in winter when it is already spring."

Piccolo made a slight sound of irritation. "What is this dreck?"

"It's a story of living out in nature. Living simply and honestly."

"I bet you'd like it if you read it," Gohan chimed in.

Piccolo hissed and wrenched his head stubbornly to the side. "Just finish the damn thing already."

After another chapter the book ended and Hana stretched her legs out nice and long on the blanket. Gohan looked like he wanted to take a nap. Piccolo had returned to meditation some time ago, though Hana wondered if that wasn't just a cover for falling asleep.

"It's time for your training, Gohan," said Piccolo a moment later as he got to his feet.

"Oh, all right." Gohan pushed himself up and cracked his knuckles.

"Have a quick snack first before you do," said Hana. She got up and reached for one of the peaches in the tree, but the branches were just out of reach. Piccolo effortlessly plucked two fat peaches from their stems and handed one to her and one to his student, both of whom thanked him. She sunk her teeth into the soft flesh and looked up at him. "Oh, are you not having one?"

"My kind consumes only liquid," said Piccolo. "Mostly water." He pulled a leather flask from inside his gi and sipped from it.

"May I have a drink of your water, sir?" Gohan asked. Piccolo handed him the flask. When Gohan passed it back, Piccolo offered it to Hana.

"You don't mind?" she asked.

He only shoved it further towards her until she took it and brought it to her lips. The water inside was cool and crisp. Much more delicious than any bottled variety she'd ever drank. She gulped down a few mouthfuls, brushing stray droplets from her chin.

"Thank you, Piccolo."

He snatched the flask from her and fumbled to re-cork it. "S-sure. C'mon, Gohan. Let's get some meditation and sparring in before it gets dark."

.

* * *

.

"We'll concentrate on physical attacks this afternoon," Piccolo said after they completed their meditation session. He'd been trying to hone Gohan's mental prowess lately. The boy could always stand to have more focus—this was Goku's son, after all. As for himself, he welcomed the momentary peace. Now he sunk into his personal fighting stance, twisting his body and putting his left shoulder forward and his weight in his back leg.

Gohan mirrored the pose. "Shouldn't we move further away from the house? We seem kinda close."

"This'll be fine for what we're doing today."

They were awful close, though—perhaps only a hundred meters from the tree where Hana was currently napping.

With her car's innards in ruins and no expendable money to fix them, she'd been taking the evening bus home. The nearest bus stop, unfortunately, was two miles down the road, and it only stopped there once a night. The whole thing was terribly inconvenient, but Hana seemed to take it all in stride and spent her extra time at the Son house cooking with Chi-Chi or planning the next day's lessons. And sometimes, like today, she napped.

Gohan dodged Piccolo's first strike. He swiped his elbow around but there was nothing there to hit. Piccolo was above him now. A flurry of fists drove at his face, his throat, his chest, but he bent his arms into defensive positions around himself and pushed back.

Piccolo didn't let up. As soon as he realized Gohan was defending with his arms, he kicked the boy's legs out from underneath. Gohan crashed hard into the ground and gazed up at his teacher.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. "On your feet. Again."

They locked up, grappling for the upper hand. Gohan was small, yes, but he was strong. He grinned at his instructor. "So, you haven't told me what you think yet."

"About what?" Piccolo wrestled him into a headlock.

"_Nng_—Miss Hana, of course." Gohan mashed his heels into Piccolo's guts and tumbled to freedom.

Piccolo rubbed his belly with an aggravated grumble. "What about her?"

"Do you like her?"

The tops of his pointed ears purpled. "What does that have to do with anything?" He flew at Gohan again, slamming into him shoulder-first and sending him backwards into the dirt.

"I mean—" Gohan flinched as Piccolo pounded a fist deep into the gravel by his head. "—do you think she's a good teacher? Do you think she's nice?"

"Yes." Piccolo retracted his fist and pulled his student up by the collar of his gi. "And…yes. Your mother could've picked a hell of a lot worse."

A toothy smile spread across Gohan's face. "I knew you liked her!"

Piccolo snorted. "I don't like her. I hardly know her. Now shut up and surprise me with something 'cause I'm tired of knocking you on your ass."

"Fine, just lemme go pee real quick."

"Any foe you're facing won't let you take a bathroom break, Gohan."

But Gohan just shrugged. "Then I'll pee on whoever I'm fighting. I don't care."

That earned a rare chuckle from Piccolo, who nodded at the house and said, "All right, go on. I'll wait." He watched his pupil make a mad dash across the field and disappear through the back door.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Piccolo sighed and crossed his arms. Just what was that kid doing, anyway? Another minute. The wind picked up, rattling leaves and branches, and suddenly his attentions were swept up to the peach tree on the little hill.

Hana slept with _Walden_ still in her lap. Some of her loose unbraided hair and the lace hem of her sundress fluttered in the breeze.

"What are you even doing, Piccolo." He scolded himself and kicked a rock by his foot. It wasn't like him to dwell on something like this. He'd never seen the point before. Why now?

His mind occupied by faraway thoughts, he never heard Gohan return. Never heard the boy cry, "_Masenkō!_" Never saw the blast as it rushed at his head.

.

* * *

.

A sharp, piercing explosion woke Hana with a start. The book fell from her lap as she scrambled to her feet and searched frantically for the origin of the terrible sound. She didn't have to search for long.

Gohan was screaming out to her from the field some distance away. And beside him…

"Piccolo!" Hana bolted down the hill, through the tall grasses, and went down on her knees in the gravel. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Piccolo lay prone on his back, bleeding from his right ear and various cuts and scrapes on the side of his face and arm.

"I don't know," Gohan said, tremors in his voice. "I hit him with a _masenkō_. I-I didn't use a lot of power, but I don't think he tried to defend at all. I-I think he was distracted. I didn't think for a second th-that he wouldn't dodge it. I can never sneak up on him. N-never."

Hana gave the boy's hair a reassuring pat. "It was a mistake. It happens. It's all right, Gohan. Can you go and find his canteen for me?" With Gohan occupied, she focused now on Piccolo, examining his wounds. She was careful not to move him too much for fear of hurting him further in case any bones were broken. Did he even have bones? She thought for a moment. He must have bones. Unless he was built like a shark. Or worse, a sea cucumber…

Gohan brought the canteen and dumped half the contents over Piccolo's face.

Piccolo's brow creased as his eyes cracked open. "Mmn…ohh. Did I…fall asleep while you were reading?" he asked. The words seemed take great effort. Gohan and Hana shared a look of concern.

"No," said Hana, "that was over an hour ago."

"Wh-what?"

"It's all right, it's all right. You just got hurt." She cradled his head gently in her hands, checking his pupils for anything strange. "Can you move at all? Can you move your legs?"

Piccolo bent his legs at the knees. "Yeah."

"Oh good, good. We should get you inside. Gohan, can you give me a hand?"

Between her height and Gohan's strength, they were able to help Piccolo onto his feet. Hana slung a heavy green arm across her shoulders and Gohan, hovering, took the other arm. When they got him inside the house they put towels at the head of the sofa and eased Piccolo down. "I'm fine," he continued to insist, though the words had begun to slur.

Gohan fetched a first aid kit and Hana set to work cleaning the blood from Piccolo's face. "I guess I'm a tutor _and_ a nurse today," she said, trying to lighten the mood with zero effect.

She pressed an alcohol pad against the injured skin and Piccolo winced. "I don't need a…a nurse," he growled. "Just lemme…lemme…" He seemed to lose his train of thought and get frustrated at himself.

Hana gave his chest a reassuring pat. "Hey, don't force anything. Just take it easy for now, okay? We'll take care of you."

She thought, for a moment, that she heard him whimper.

"Is Mr. Piccolo gonna be okay?" Gohan stood bravely by his master's side, though there were tears clinging to his lashes.

"It's a concussion for sure," she said. "But if he relaxes for a couple days he should get better."

Gohan allowed himself to cry a little. "Thank goodness."

Hana took care in bandaging the deep abrasions at Piccolo's temple and then they let him sleep a while. She was a bit surprised that, as big as he was, he didn't snore. In fact he barely made any noises at all, and she woke him a couple times just to make sure he was still capable of being roused.

Chi-Chi came home with groceries as it started to get dark. The sight of Piccolo sprawled over her lovely sofa almost caused her to drop the bags. "What's going on?!"

"I injured him during training, mom," Gohan said, eyes downcast. "He's gotta rest."

Chi-Chi looked to Hana, who nodded. "Well, I guess that's fine then. For now. But he's not sleeping over here. He can go to the Lookout if he needs to. Let Kami deal with him dirtying up _his_ nice furniture."

Halfway through dinner there came the dull clap of far-off thunder. Hana popped a dumpling into her mouth and went to the window. "Oh, those're some nasty-looking clouds headed over here." She frowned at her watch. "Hour and a half until I need to be at the bus stop. I don't suppose I could borrow an umbrella?"

Chi-Chi seemed scandalized. "You'll borrow no such thing! If a storm's rolling in, I can't very well send you out there into who knows what. You can absolutely stay here tonight. I'll even make up the guest bedroom."

Hana put her hands up in front of her. "Oh gosh, no, I can't put you out like that."

"Nonsense, I insist."

"I'll take her home," came a low voice from the darkened living room.

Gohan choked on his juice. "Mr. Piccolo!"

Piccolo pushed himself up from the couch. He leaned in the kitchen doorframe, his skin ashen and beaded with sweat. "If I'm going to Kami's tonight anyway, I might as well just drop her off."

Hana brought him a glass of ice water. "You can't overexert yourself right now."

"You think flying will overexert me? You think I'm that frail?"

"Well, no, but—"

"But nothing. Finish your food and let's go before it starts pouring on us."

Hana crammed another dumpling between her teeth and went to gather up her books and papers. When she returned to the living room the lamps were on and Piccolo was dressed in his turban and cape again. Gohan gave her a hug and tried to give Piccolo one as well but was brushed off as usual. She watched Piccolo as he shifted his weight from one foot to the next. Was he having balance issues or was it only her imagination?

He noticed her eyeing him and bristled. "I'm fine. Do you have your things?"

Hana jiggled her backpack. "Yep."

"Where am I taking you?"

"Like the street address?" she asked.

"No, just describe it."

"Oh. Down by the coast about twenty-five miles south. There's a neighborhood just below a big white windmill."

"I know the place," he said.

"Really? Um, I'm the one-story blue house on the west edge."

"Not a problem."

Chi-Chi opened the front door for them, but once Piccolo walked through she took hold of Hana's wrist and kept her back. "Is this really what you want? You can still stay the night."

"It's cool," Hana said. "I trust him. Thank you, though, Miss Chi-Chi."

After some hesitation Chi-Chi let her go, said goodbye, and closed the door.

The rain was already starting to come down in cold little pinpricks. Moonlight caught on each drop as it fell from the sky. Hana wished she could stay outside and watch what would surely be a gorgeous rainstorm, but her skin was breaking out in goosebumps and she shivered in her sundress. Piccolo, made even more menacing by the approaching lightning, turned his back to her and swept his cape aside.

"Grab on."

"To…your back? Are you sure?"

"You want to stay dry, don't you?"

Hana approached him and curled nervous arms around his middle. The act felt strangely…intimate. Immediately she could feel his ribs expand and contact as he heaved a sigh. His body was so warm, the fabric between her fingers so soft. When he covered her in his cape she let her eyes fall closed. It was like a cocoon, snuggly and quiet and safe from the cold. She buried her burning cheeks against his back, hoping he couldn't read minds.

He spoke and his voice was a tremor across her skin. "Hang on."

.

* * *

.

_You have my continued thanks for reading! Expect the next chapter towards the end of this week. It's currently Spring Break and my work schedule is a little hectic, so I hope I'll have some time at least in the evenings to write. I appreciate all the reviews and kind words - I actually wasn't expecting much since I've really only been writing this for myself, so I assumed only I would care about it. But I'm pleasantly surprised!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Let go."

Hana's arms were stiff and cold by the time they landed in front of the porch. Unlatching them from his waist proved difficult, and her elbows ached as she rubbed heat back into the joints. Flying had been less frightening this time around, though she had still clung to him for dear life the entire flight. She'd barely even let herself breathe.

She stepped out from his cape, glad to be on solid ground, and looked up at his rain-spattered face. "Oh, you're soaking wet." The storm had since left the coast, but they'd flown right through it getting there. "Come in and get dry for a minute."

She fished her keys from her backpack and went to unlock the door. Piccolo remained at the bottom of the porch steps, one hand firmly on the banister. "That's all right. I-I need to leave for Kami's any…anyway, and—_nng_—"

Hana turned from the open door just in time to see him collapse onto the stairs. "Piccolo!" She tried to help him up in spite of his insistence that he was perfectly fine. "C'mon, you're coming inside and that's that. You're still hurt." His weight was unreal. There was so much solid heft to him. And she could tell he was fighting hard not to lean all of it against her.

The waterlogged cape and turban were left on the porch, which made supporting him a little easier. By the time Hana managed to get Piccolo inside, though, he was trembling. She bade him to sit at the kitchen table where he slumped, half-conscious, and held his head.

"Do you need something?" Hana asked. "Let me get you something, okay? Some water?"

He nodded. "Hot."

She returned to him with a steaming mug. Piccolo nursed it slowly until the shaking ebbed from his muscles. An awareness of his surroundings showed on his face and he tugged at the damp gi that clung to his abdominals. "I'm dripping all over your kitchen floor."

Hana laughed it off. "Doesn't matter, it's just water. You look a little better, though. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine now." Piccolo stood with the table's assistance. "I-I should get going." He took a step from the table, however, and his legs crumpled uselessly beneath him. Hana caught him, surprised she could even keep him upright. He wrestled away from her and sat back in the chair. His shoulders sagged. His breathing was shallow.

Somewhere between the fall outside and the fall inside, the wounds on the side of his head had been reopened. A bright patch of fresh purple blood bloomed on the bandaging. "Ohh, you hurt yourself again," Hana said. She tried to tilt his head to see better, but he shied from her touch.

Piccolo's gaze settled on the tabletop. "I'm…sorry about all this."

"No, no, don't be." Hana began to unpeel the wet bandages. "I'm just glad I can help. And I'm glad you didn't take off for Kami's Lookout right away. You could've plummeted right out of the sky. I never would've forgiven myself." She found the first aid kit in the pantry and set to work redressing the gashes at his temple. Piccolo hissed through clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol stung him for a second time. Hana blew gently on his injured skin. The muscles in his jaw relaxed, the sting subsiding, and a faint blush passed over the tops of his ears.

"Nice trick," he said.

She wrapped him up good as new and turned her attention to the puddle spreading across the floor. "We need to get you out of those wet clothes or you'll catch cold."

"I…don't think I catch colds."

She eyed him skeptically. "Well, regardless, you'll be better off dry. I might still have some clothes that my ex never came and got. He was kind of a big dude so his stuff might fit y—" A bright flash of light like a camera bulb cut her off mid-word. She shielded her eyes, and when the light faded she couldn't believe what she was looking at.

Piccolo, hand pressed to his sternum, was dressed in something completely different. Now he wore a long tunic of muted marigold and white linen pants that gathered loosely around his ankles. In his other hand was his folded gi and, sitting on top, his shoes.

When the initial jaw-dropping shock wore off, Hana closed her mouth and grinned. "Now _that's_ a nice trick." She wanted more than anything to ask how on earth he did it, but she figured he wasn't in an explaining mood. Regardless, it was fun to see him in something new for a change.

She hung up his wet clothes in the laundry room to air dry. Her fingers grazed the delicate fabric, tracing the seams along the legs, finding long-worn holes and grass stains. He really wasn't accustomed to changing outfits often, was he. Gathering up fistfuls of his gi, she buried her nose into the fabric and breathed in deep. His heady, earthen scent curled itself like burning incense through her brain. He smelt of rich soil after a rainstorm. And of freshly-cut grass. And something different, something enticing and far-away, something that must have been unique just to him.

For one secret, guilty moment she found herself wondering how he might taste.

"Don't be silly," she whispered into the cloth.

From the living room there came a shattering crash. His gi forgotten, Hana bolted to see what had happened. Piccolo was on his hands and knees—beside him, the remnants of a tall standing lamp that had stood alongside the couch. Now, it lay crooked on the hardwood floor, its light bulb in a zillion pieces.

Piccolo stared up at her. "I broke your lamp."

"Are you hurt?" Hana went to him, mindful of the broken glass.

"Thought I could make it to the couch. Lost my balance."

"But are you hurt?" she repeated. He seemed a bit disoriented. She took his hands in hers and searched them for cuts, but he was all right. "Thank goodness."

The skin of his hands were rough and calloused and yet oddly soft. There was such power there in those hands, even in his weakened state. She couldn't help but compare her fingers to his. His knuckles were twice the size of hers.

"What're you doing?" he asked, bringing her back to reality. Her thumbs were following the lines of his palms.

"Sorry," she said. She pulled hands away, embarrassed for herself. "Can you stand? I'll help you to the couch."

.

* * *

.

The fireplace roared to life as Hana threw on another log. Piccolo sat on the sofa, toasty and safe. He sipped on second mug of hot water. It appeared to be doing him a great deal of good as far as his strength and cognizance were concerned. And his color was returning to normal. Or, at least, normal for him.

Hana warmed her hands and sat back to admire her work. She couldn't remember the last time she'd put a fire on, but it seemed appropriate tonight. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had company. She'd forgotten how pleasant it could be.

Piccolo's head lolled back on the sofa and he closed his eyes.

"How're you feeling?"

"Better," he replied. "Tired."

"I've got a second bedroom. You're welcome to it."

He grumbled a little. "Couch'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"It's just that the bed in there's a lot softer than—"

"I said the couch'll be _fine_."

So he was back to his same bristly self, was he? Hana got to her feet and smoothed out her dress with a few sharp swipes. "Y'know, I think I liked you better when you were loopy and breaking my lamps."

He suddenly looked dreadfully uncomfortable. "I'm sure you did." He felt the bandages at his temple and sighed. "Look, I'm not accustomed to this type of situation, all right? And having to be doted on is irritating."

Her shoulders softened. "I'm only trying to help."

"I know. I don't…like help. And I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, I-I just—_mhhn_…" Piccolo winced and pressed a hand to his brow. "Guess I'm not as improved as I thought…"

Hana took the mug from him and found him a pillow from the hall closet. "Try and lay down," she said. "See if that helps."

"Yes, nurse." He had said it sarcastically but her cheeks still reddened.

When he was settled and resting his eyes, Hana set up shop at the kitchen table with a few of Gohan's assignments she had yet to grade. As usual, he aced each one. She reminded herself to step up his course material. He'd need high school-level work at this rate.

"What are you doing over there, anyway?" Piccolo asked after a while.

"Grading some of Gohan's stuff. Am I keeping you awake?"

"Wasn't exactly trying to sleep," he said, adding, "He's a pretty smart kid, huh?"

Hana laughed. "Kinda brilliant, actually, yeah. I've never tutored a kid so smart. A few more years and he won't even need school anymore, he'll be teaching himself from college text books."

"His mother will be pleased to hear that."

Hana's red pen stopped over a worksheet. "She does have very high hopes for him, doesn't she."

"Oh, I've heard it a thousand times. 'Great scholar' this and 'great scholar' that. I just wonder if Gohan's opinions on the matter are ever factored into her grand projections of his future. Every time I see him studying he looks miserable." Piccolo paused for a second and cleared his throat. "Not lately, though. Not with you."

Hana fiddled with the pen cap, beaming as her cheeks pinkened. "Good, I'm glad."

They lapsed into silence and she continued to grade. Eventually she heard deep, slow breathing from the darkened living room and figured he had finally fallen asleep. The clock on the wall by the back door read quarter-to-midnight. It was probably time to pack it in and call it an evening. She put away the papers and got up to turn off the lamp.

Her cell phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. The number was—

She hurried to answer it. "Miss Chi-Chi?"

"No, it's Gohan."

"Gohan? Are you all right? Why are you calling so late?" Her worry made it difficult to keep her voice quiet.

"I can't sleep. I keep thinking about Mr. Piccolo up there on the Lookout all by himself. Do you think he's okay?"

Hana smiled and clutched the phone. What a sweet boy. "I know he is. Because he's right here on my sofa and he's fine."

"H-he never went to the Lookout?"

"Nope. I thought he'd be better off just resting here tonight."

"Are you guys having a sleepover?"

"Kinda, yeah."

Empty air followed. Hana was just about to ask him if he was still there, but then he said in an awfully concerned tone, "Are you guys kissing?"

A rush of adrenaline shot up her spine. Was she in high school all over again? What even was this? "What?" she asked in an attempt to play it cool. "Why would you think that?"

"That's what happens on TV, right? When a boy and a girl have a sleepover together, they kiss each other."

Hana sometimes had to remind herself that, while he was in fact brilliant, he was still a six-year-old boy. This was one of those times. "That's just on TV," she said. "In real life it's a lot more boring. So don't worry. Isn't it past your bedtime, anyway? Like, _way_ past?"

"I'm going, I'm going."

After they wished each other a good night, she hung up. Her heart was thudding in her ears and in her fingertips.

"What did Gohan need?" asked Piccolo from the living room, giving her a bit of a scare.

"Oh, god. I thought you were asleep."

"Is Gohan all right?" he insisted.

"Yeah, he was just worried about you." She hoped he wouldn't ask about the rest of the conversation.

Piccolo snorted. "He gets that from his mother."

Hana still hadn't let go of the cell phone. Her palms were sweaty. "Do you need anything before I go to bed?" she asked. There was a tremor in her voice that she hoped he didn't notice.

"Nah."

"Okay." She slipped through the living room, but paused at the mouth of the back hallway and looked over her shoulder at him. Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, illuminating his reclining form just enough to see his general shape in the shadows. He really was much too big for the couch. He should've been sleeping in the guest room, but she supposed he was too polite or prideful to accept the offer. Still, there was something endearing about a man of his size sleeping on such a little sofa. She smiled at him, thankful he couldn't see her face. "Sleep well, Piccolo."

"Same to you."

Later, as she rolled herself up in the bedsheets, she realized she hadn't stopped smiling.

.

* * *

.

By the time Hana woke and got out of the shower, Piccolo was gone. In fact there was no trace that he had ever been there at all. His gi and shoes were taken from the laundry room. The damp spots on the porch where his turban and cape had been were dry. Even the pillow he used was put back where it came from.

There was something sobering about early morning light, something Hana had never grown accustomed to. Everything just felt unreal in those soundless hours.

She padded across the tile to the fridge, taking a yogurt cup. She ate it slowly while leaning against the counter. Her eyes strayed to the empty sofa in the other room. She wasn't sure what she had expected this morning.

As she went to toss the cup in the trash, she noticed something bright yellow in the bottom—half a dozen crumpled post-it notes. She fished them out and spread them on the marble countertop.

On each note, he only made it a few letters in before scribbling everything out. It wasn't even clear to her what he had intended to write. There was even a hole torn in one of them from the force of the pen.

Was it the concussion? Perhaps he was worse off than she'd previously guessed.

Or was it some other reason? Some reason she wouldn't even allow herself to consider? Her conversation with Gohan replayed in her mind. Perhaps it had been the start of some great confession of love, but part-way through he'd recognized his error and disposed of the evidence. She shook her head with a tired laugh. It was much too early to be daydreaming.

Still, she wished she could understand the notes, glean some information from the scratched-apart letters. What had he tried to say to her? Why didn't he finish?

Why was it bothering her so much?

.

* * *

.

_Many thanks for reading this far! :D Next week my schedule is pretty open so I'll have lots of time to write - expect the next chapter sometime in the next 3 or 4 days, if all goes as planned. There's a big party in the next installment - all our favorite Z-friends will be there!_


	5. Chapter 5

Even a few days after that morning the post-it notes had not left Hana's mind. During every idle moment, her brain would churn into overdrive, turning each square of paper around and around, still attempting to make sense of it all. And she would've asked Piccolo except that she hadn't seen him in days. But he was around and she knew it, as evidenced by Gohan's absence immediately following his lessons.

Hana sat in the kitchen of the Son house one evening as she waited to walk to the bus stop.

"A party? Tonight?" She nearly laughed out loud. It was the last thing she expected to hear from Chi-Chi, but she was glad to. Anything to distract her from Piccolo.

Chi-Chi, elbow-deep in dishes, sighed and shook her head. "It wasn't my idea, trust me. It's my husband's old master, the turtle hermit, who's throwing it. Apparently everyone's going to be there. Of course Gohan's got his heart set on going, and I suppose it's been about a year since I've seen most of them, so I told him we can go for at least a little while."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," said Hana. "I hope you two have a nice time."

"Well, I was also going to ask—would you like to come?"

"Me?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I won't know anyone there."

"You know me and Gohan. And Piccolo if he shows up." Chi-Chi didn't seem especially pleased at the idea of Piccolo being there. Even Hana, at the mere mention of his name, felt a nervous jump in her stomach.

"You really think he'd go?"

Chi-Chi dumped more plates into the sink louder than she probably should've. "Oh, who knows with him." She tightened her apron strings. "So, what do you say? Want to come?"

Hana chewed her lip. A party would be an awfully big distraction. Lots of new people to take her mind off things. She looked down at her clothes, now lamenting her early morning decision to pair jeans with an old sweater. "I'd love to go, Chi-Chi, it's just—I'm not really dressed for it."

"That's all right." Chi-Chi was grinning as she turned from the sink and took Hana by the arm. "You can borrow something of mine."

.

* * *

.

Hana wasn't sure this was better. During the entire air-car ride she couldn't help but fiddle with the puffy sleeves of the dress and tug awkwardly at the neckline. Everything seemed just a bit too snug, a bit too revealing. And she was going to meet strangers in this dress. God, she was going to see Piccolo in this dress, wasn't she. The thought made her sweat.

"You look nice," said Gohan from the back seat as if sensing her discomfort.

"Thanks."

"Don't be nervous," Chi-Chi said. "This bunch is harmless. Idiots, but harmless."

They flew across the water for miles and miles, on and on into the coming sunset. Just as Hana was starting to wonder if Chi-Chi was lost, a small island appeared on the horizon. A few other air-cars were already parked on the shoreline. Palm trees were lit up with strings of blue lights, and paper lanterns were hung up around the roof of the bright pink beach house. KAME HOUSE was scrawled in red paint over the door.

Hana eased slowly out of the car to keep the dress from hiking up and fixed her hair in the side mirror. She'd tried to make herself look presentable before leaving the Son residence, but it just wasn't happening for her tonight. Her bangs were too unruly and her hair felt limp and lifeless. Now she was _really_ hoping Piccolo would be a no-show.

The front door burst open and a woman maybe her own age with long teal-colored hair waved over at them. "Gohan! Chi-Chi! You made it!" She sprinted to the beach and smothered Gohan in a rib-crushing hug. "Ohh, it's so good to see you, short stuff."

"Y-you're squeezing me, Bulma."

Bulma caught sight of Hana and started to giggle. "Gohan, I think this girlfriend of yours might be too old for you."

Gohan went pink. "She's not my girlfriend, dummy."

"She's his tutor," said Chi-Chi just a bit pointedly.

"I'm Hana," she said with a brief bow, wary of the neckline of her dress. "Chi-Chi invited me."

Bulma was all smiles. "Well, I hope you came hungry 'cause we've got stuff on the grill that's almost done. Come on in, you guys! Everyone else is already here."

Inside, Hana was met with a handful of strangers—and also, surprisingly, faces she recognized. She remembered them, just as she remembered Gohan and Piccolo, from the broadcast of the Saiyan battle the previous year. There was Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, and Chiaotzu. It was easy enough to recall their names, they'd been all over the news and the papers following the attack.

Except…wait, no, this wasn't right. Three of those men were dead. She'd seen in happen live on television.

"Uh-oh," said Yamcha, pointing to her, "I know that look."

Hana wrung her hands together. "I-I don't understand what's happening. You were dead. And you. And you." She looked to Tien and Chiaotzu.

The old man, Master Roshi, smirked from behind his mug of beer. "So you don't know about the dragon balls, eh?"

"The dragon balls—wait, like the old folk tale?"

"The very same," he replied.

"Except they're real," Krillin added.

Hana glanced down at Gohan, hoping he would let her know if this was all an elaborate prank. But the boy only nodded in earnest. God, so it was true. She supposed there were stranger things in the world—an old green man that lived in the clouds and served as God, for instance—but still, to think that the dragon balls were real and not just a children's story…it was unreal. She wondered how many other people knew, or if she were now privy to some confidential information. Except it couldn't have been _that_ confidential if they just came right out and told her.

Shrugging it off, Hana introduced herself properly to everyone and bowed her head low.

Piccolo was nowhere to be seen. She felt relief untying the knot in the pit of her stomach. Bulma offered her a drink but she opted for soda instead. Getting tipsy in view of her employer and student didn't sit too well with her.

Various finger-foods were laid out on the table, and Hana helped herself to a heaping plate of cheese and crackers. She shoved a few bites into her mouth. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was. Master Roshi poured some drinks and Puar flew around the room to deliver them. Bulma raised her cup into the air with a, "Cheers!" and everybody drank.

"I can't believe it's been so long since we've gotten together like this," said Yamcha, reclining in his chair, boots on the coffee table. "It's kinda funny that so much has happened and we've been through so much, but all of us are still pretty much unchanged, y'know?"

Bulma scoffed at him and messed up his hair. "Leave it to you to die and come back to life and say nothing is different."

"And, dude, speak for yourself," said Krillin. "You lousy bums might be the same, but I've got a girlfriend now."

Yamcha rolled his eyes into the next province. "Really? We hadn't noticed."

"Don't pay any attention to him," Tien said to Maron. "It's been very nice getting to know you."

Maron grabbed Tien in an overly-affectionate hug. Hana couldn't help but notice how she pressed her cleavage against him. Neither could Krillin. "Aw!" the girl squealed. "Tien, you're such a sweetie. Krillin has the cutest friends."

Krillin's face was radioactive pink. Tien's wasn't faring much better.

"So, Gohan," said Bulma, changing the subject, "how's your training going?"

"You seem a lot stronger," Chiaotzu chimed in, and Tien, now recovered, nodded his agreement.

Gohan popped the cap off a bottle of soda. "It's going great! Mr. Piccolo's a lot stronger, too, so I've been able to improve faster than I ever could before. I've been trying to learn his _makankōsappō _technique, and I think I almost have it, but it's really difficult."

"I'm positive you'll get it in time," said Master Roshi. "You're your father's son, after all. You could probably master any moveset you wanted to."

"You really think so?"

"His studies are also going well," Chi-Chi snipped. "Hana says he's reading at a 10th-grade level. Isn't that right, Hana?"

Hana hadn't expected the conversation to swing around to her so soon. All eyes turned to her just as she crammed an undignified amount of cheese and crackers into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed down a gulp of her soda, nodding her head as she tried not to choke. "Y-yes, he's coming along swimmingly. I keep saying he'll end up teaching me eventually." She laughed a little but no one else seemed amused.

"I forgot, you can't expect this lot to care about such things," said Chi-Chi. "Bunch of uncultured swine."

"Hey!" said Oolong. "I resemble that remark!" This time, everyone laughed.

The conversations continued on and Hana was content not to be featured in any of them. It was entertaining enough just to listen in. Maron seemed to be out of the loop as well, and the two girls ended up sitting beside each other on the window seat making small talk. She was sweet enough, albeit a little ditzy and forward, and she smelled overwhelmingly of flowery perfume. The two of them talked favorite stores, makeup tips, ex-boyfriends—petty, entertaining talk that Hana usually didn't get a chance to indulge in. Maron was especially knowledgeable about fashion and spent a good ten minutes describing her ideal wedding gown down to the specific types of crystals sewn into the lace of the train. Hana hoped Krillin knew what he was getting into with this girl.

Eventually Bulma stuck her head in the house and declared that food was ready. Everyone hurriedly migrated outside to the long picnic tables. The sun was nearly set and the lights in the palm trees shone even brighter than before. Plates of chicken and ribs glistened with caramelized sauces. There were bowls upon bowls of baked beans, coleslaw, biscuits, even grilled corn on the cob.

Hana wolfed down an entire plateful and went back for seconds. Across the table, Master Roshi grinned toothily at her and adjusted his sunglasses. "My, my, if there's one thing I like to see, it's a girl with a hearty appetite!"

Bulma laughed. "She's too old for you, Turtle Hermit."

"So are you," he said, "but that doesn't keep me from trying."

Yamcha snickered and Bulma jabbed him in the arm with her fork.

When everyone began to slow down and fill up, Krillin banged a knife on his glass. "Before we finish eating, I think we should stop for a minute and think of the guy who can't be here with us. Goku, whatever you're doing up there, wherever you are, you better come back to us in one piece, you hear me?" He shook his knife at the night sky.

Chi-Chi clasped her hands. "Yes, Goku, we love you very much, and we're waiting as patiently as we can."

Hana gazed up at the emerging stars as the gathered friends echoed Chi-Chi's sentiments. She wondered if she would ever get to meet this Goku, or if he would ever return to Earth at all. She thought of Gohan and the father he missed every day. And she hoped the absence would somehow be worth the tears she now saw gathering in the boy's eyes.

Sudden music from the boombox pulled her from her reverie. Bulma turned up the volume and grabbed Yamcha and started to dance. "Yeah, Bulma's got the right idea," said Krillin, dabbing at his eyes. "Why the long faces, guys? Goku would want us to be celebrating. C'mere, Maron!"

Hana tapped her feet and grinned, watching these colorful strangers make fools of themselves on the beach. The alcohol was starting to kick in apparently. She almost hoped someone would ask her to dance. Maybe Tien. He seemed the shy type, though, and she wasn't exactly feeling her most confident either.

Someone tugged on the sleeve of her dress. "Oh! Yes, Gohan?"

"He's here," the boy said, low enough so only she could hear. "I can feel his ki."

Hana leaned in closer. "Who?"

"Mr. Piccolo."

He might as well have punched her in the gut.

Standing up from the bench, Hana made some weak excuse about needing to find the bathroom and fled into the empty Kame House. Inside it was dark, the only light coming from the palm tree lights through the windows. She checked her makeup in the mirror and raked fingers through her hair. It was quiet. There was space to breathe and collect her thoughts. Why couldn't her heart just stop pounding for a second?

There came a sound just outside the back door. She stopped dead. It had clearly sounded like a person's voice. She cracked open the door and slunk through to the empty side of the island. The only noise that greeted her was the gentle lapping of the ocean waves as they dragged across the shore.

She listened for a little while and then, content that it had only been her imagination, turned to go back inside.

"It's you." His voice raised goosebumps along her arms. Out from a gathering of palm trees came that familiar mantle and turban. It was too dark to see his face until he approached the blue neon sign above the back door.

"Piccolo," she said, tugging up the neckline of the dress, "um, hi." Of course it had to be him.

"I had a feeling you might be here."

"Chi-Chi invited me last-minute."

He studied her carefully, pressing his lips together. Hana thought he might make a comment about the dress, but instead he buried his face into the crook of his arm and sneezed. So_ that_ was the sound she had heard. He recovered and puffed out an irritated breath.

"I thought you said you didn't catch colds," Hana said, trying very hard not to crack a smile.

"It's not a—I'm not sick." He grimaced, flustered. "It's that woman Krillin brought with him."

"Maron?" And then it clicked. "Oh, her perfume. Yeah."

"That stuff is terrible," he said, punctuating himself with another gruff sneeze.

This time Hana did smile. In spite of the sneezing, he looked well—much better than the last time she'd seen him. His color was back in full force and the wounds on his head were almost entirely healed. It was incredible what only a few days could do.

"What?" he barked. "What're you smiling at?"

"Sorry, it's just…good to see you."

His scowl softened.

Hana played with the ruffles on the dress. If only she didn't feel quite so much like a sausage forced into its casing, maybe she would've had the guts to tell him just how much she'd missed seeing him lately. Or how often he'd been on her mind. Or how handsome he was under the blue lighting. How had she never noticed the chiseled angles of his cheekbones until now?

"Aren't you going back to the party?" Piccolo asked, breaking the lengthy silence. "I'm sure the last thing you want to do is stand around staring at me all night."

"Oh. Yeah." She shifted on her heels. She wanted to wait and see if he'd make a move to follow after her. "What about y—"

Piccolo sneezed again, loud enough to scare some birds out of the trees.

"—you." Hana bit down on her lip to keep from giggling. "_Bless_ you."

"Pft." He was blushing. "Go on. I'll be there in a minute. I need to…get myself sorted out."

"All right." Hana curled her fingers around the doorknob, but paused before pushing it open. She had to bring it up, had to say _something_. And this alone time might be her only opportunity for days, weeks even. "By the way, about the other night…"

He just stared.

"It was…nice. Having you over like that. Next time you should stick around and let me cook you breakfast."

Piccolo frowned. "I don't—"

"Oh. You don't eat. That's right. My mistake." Hana let out a little self-depreciating laugh. "Still, you didn't have to go so soon."

"And leave in broad daylight?"

"Why not?"

Now Piccolo's ears were beginning to purple. "Don't neighbors start rumors about that sort of thing?"

"What, am I supposed to be embarrassed about having a friend over to my house?"

"A…friend?" he asked.

Hana mentally backpedaled like her life depended on it. "I-I mean…aren't we? I just assumed. We've known each other for almost two months, right?"

Piccolo seemed to be chewing the word over in his mind. She could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, and her heart flopped helplessly between her ribs as she waited for him to speak. Finally he crossed his arms and said, "I really have no use for friends."

"Oh." She hoped the disappointment wasn't showing on her face. "W-well, that's okay. We don't have to—"

"But," he continued, "I made an exception for Gohan. And I suppose I can make an exception for you."

And there it was—a grin. An honest-to-goodness grin. Right there on his gorgeous green mug. It was there and gone in a flash, but wow, what a flash.

"Friends, then." Hana held out her hand, hoping he might take the cue. After a second's hesitation, he clasped his hand around hers, giving it one firm shake before letting go. His skin was warm, and her palm was warm where he touched her. "A-after all," she said, "us teachers have to stick together, right?"

He grunted in agreement.

Hana couldn't keep her eyes off of him now. His entire being seemed transformed in the wake of that fleeting grin. His lips…how had she never noticed them before? They were smooth and sculpted and olive green, darker than the leaf green that colored the rest of him. And as she stood there, transfixed, she watched as he wet those lips with a pass of his tongue—his _purple_ tongue.

She gulped.

Suddenly all she could think of were the notes he crumpled in her garbage can. She knew so little about him. So much of him was hidden below the surface, purposefully left vague, and those post-it notes were the perfect example. He had obviously wanted to say _something_, but decided to take it back, to keep it inside, a secret.

"Listen. Piccolo." Hana squared her shoulders, prepared to ask. "There's something I've been wondering about for the last few days."

The door behind her swung open, startling her into silence. Krillin popped his bald head outside. "Oh, there you are. We were worried you got lost or kidnapped by a mermaid." He chuckled and then saw Piccolo there, towering over him and glaring as usual. "Piccolo. You're here too."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes. "I am."

"Gohan's out front, y'know. You should come join us."

Maron bounded up behind Krillin. She threw her arms around his neck and smooched his ears. "Krillin, come dance with me some more!" Hana could smell the perfume again and she heard Piccolo sneeze behind her.

Krillin was pink all over and he stuttered, "A-all right, Maron, I'm coming." He let himself be dragged back into the house.

Hana went to follow after them, but Piccolo said, "Wait."

"Hm?"

"You wanted to ask me something."

Her mouth opened, hung open long enough for her to take a breath, and then closed again. She'd lost her nerve. "Oh. No, it's not important. Never mind. Let's go see Gohan." She smiled, hoping he would let it go.

He did. And when she turned to go inside, he ducked under the doorway and trailed soundlessly behind her.

.

* * *

.

_The party continues in the next chapter! Thank you SO MUCH for reading - y'all are the best. Next chapter should be up by the end of this weekend!_


	6. Chapter 6

The night rolled on and the party showed no signs of disbanding. Master Roshi had wheeled out the karaoke machine while Hana was talking to Piccolo, and now Puar and Oolong were singing sappy duets, belting out notes together into the lone microphone. Drinks were downed quicker than new ones could be mixed up, though Hana still had not indulged. By ten-thirty, Chi-Chi was itching to leave and told Gohan to say his goodbyes.

"But _mom_…"

"No, Gohan, we've already stayed much longer than I planned. And it's your bedtime now. So come on, get ready to go."

The boy groaned and kicked the sand. "Fine." He found Piccolo sitting beneath one of the palm trees and got a farewell pat on the top of his head.

Hana watched them from far-off, wishing she could listen in on their conversation. She always wondered what those two spoke about when no one else could hear.

The boy dragged his feet as he took his place at his mother's side. Chi-Chi hugged Bulma and said goodbye to Master Roshi. "It was so nice to see all of you," she said. "Thank you for thinking of me and Gohan. We appreciate the kindness."

Master Roshi held her hand in his and squeezed. "Like always, Chi-Chi, if you and your son need anything, just let us know. It can't be easy not having Goku around to help."

"It's been all right," she said. "I have Hana to help Gohan with his studies. She even helps me cook and do chores in the evenings. And Piccolo…well, he's always around."

"That has to be strange," said Bulma, acting out a little shiver. "He still kinda gives me the creeps sometimes."

Chi-Chi puffed out a weary breath. "I guess I've gotten used to him. He's more of a nuisance than anything, really. But I suppose if anything were ever to happen—if someone should attack the house, Kami forbid—it's good that he's close by."

That was the highest praise Hana had ever heard Chi-Chi give to Piccolo. And even then, it wasn't much.

Chi-Chi turned to her. "Are you coming with us, dear? Or were you planning to stay?"

"Um…"

"Mr. Piccolo can take her home if she wants to stay," said Gohan.

"I-I guess maybe he can, yeah," Hana replied. "I should go ask him if that's all right." But as she turned to find him, she nearly bumped right into his stomach. How long had he been waiting there for her?

"It's fine," he told her. "Just tell me when you want to go." And he went back to the palm trees and sat down to meditate, though not before stifling another sneeze. Hana's eyes lingered sympathetically on him for a moment longer. He didn't have to stick around. Gohan was leaving and he could've left too. Getting a ride home from Krillin or Bulma would've been easy enough for her. But no, Piccolo was opting to stay.

Chi-Chi got Hana's things out from the air-car and helped Gohan with his seatbelt ("I can do it myself, mom!"). When they were ready, the two of them waved goodbye for the last time and sped off towards home.

Master Roshi returned to the karaoke machine, but Bulma sidled up to Hana. "Hey, how old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

Bulma's face brightened. "Just what I was hoping to hear. Wanna split a bottle of wine?"

"That…sounds really great, actually."

.

* * *

.

The two girls retreated into the house and found a quiet spot at the kitchen table. Yamcha had insisted on showing off a new sparring technique, but Bulma wasn't interested. Outside the window they could still hear the stereo and Krillin and Chiaotzu talking excitedly to each other. Hana thought it polite to invite Maron to join her and Bulma, but Bulma quickly hushed her up. "I've had to listen to that pipsqueak talk all afternoon," she said. "I will seriously lose it if I have to hear about her dream wedding dress one more time."

Though it felt a bit rude, Hana agreed.

Bulma popped a bottle of chardonnay and they got to talking. She wanted to know how the Sons were dealing with Goku's absence, how Gohan was doing, even what Piccolo had been up to. And Hana asked everything she could about Goku, the dragon balls, and what happened on Namek. The more Bulma drank the more animated her stories became. It was like watching a one-woman play. Her anecdotes had everything—intrigue, humor, tragedy, drama, romance, handsome aliens—and she even tried to do voices, though not very well.

When her Namek story was over, she poured herself a third glass. "Are you slowing down already?" she asked. Hana had barely touched her second, but she already felt lightheaded.

"My ex always used to say I was a cheap date."

Bulma made a face. "Ex-boyfriend, eh? What's the story there? Who broke up with who?"

"I broke up with him."

"Atta girl."

Hana laughed and took a sip. "It wasn't anything dramatic. We just weren't right together."

"Ah, bedroom troubles," Bulma said with a wink.

"No, nothing like that! I just—I wanted more from the relationship than he was willing to give. I guess in the end I kinda had enough and let him off the hook. It's been about a year now, I think."

Bulma lifted her glass. "A toast to kicking little boys to the curb." They clinked and drank.

"But anyway, what about you and Yamcha?" Hana asked. "You guys are dating, right? I mean, you seem pretty close, so I just assumed."

"Yeah, I guess we're dating. I can never tell with him. Don't get me wrong, I love the stupid idiot, and I'm happy he was wished back. I just have this weird feeling like something's changed between us and I can't put my finger on what it might be." Bulma shrugged and swirled her glass around. "Eh, it bores me just to think about it. What about you? Is there someone new you've got your eye on?"

"Hardly." Hana felt her cheeks getting red, as if they weren't already red from the wine. "When I'm not tutoring, I'm grading or sleeping. I don't really have much opportunity to meet new guys."

Bulma pondered this for a moment and then said, slyly, "You met a new guy tonight."

Hana already knew what she was getting at. "Tien? I dunno, he seems sweet enough, but—"

"Do you think he's cute?"

For the second time that week, Hana was getting high school déjà vu. "Well, sure, but Bulma—"

"Then it's perfect, right? C'mon, I'll tell him you think he's cute, and then you can ask him to dance, and then I just know you guys will—"

"No!" Hana yelped, grabbing Bulma's wrist. "No, no, please. There _is_ someone I've got my eye on, all right? But I feel dumb enough about it already, and I don't want anyone to know. Just please promise me you'll keep it to yourself. Chi-Chi probably wouldn't be very happy with me if she knew."

Bulma's eyes widened and her red lips pulled up in an excited grin. "Oh my god. You like Piccolo."

"_Yes_." Hana buried her face in her hands.

"This is the greatest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. Does he know?"

"No. And he never will because I'm never going to tell him."

"What?! Why?"

"Because there's no way on earth he likes me back. I mean, yeah, he said I was his friend, but I don't think for a minute that he could—"

"Woah, woah, woah." Bulma put up her hands, a look of absolute shock on her face. "He said you were his friend? His _friend_? He actually said that to you?"

Hana nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Girl, he might as well have just proposed to you. Do you have any idea how he operates? He has one friend. One. Gohan. He treats the kid like his own son. He's laid down his life for him. So for Piccolo to call you his friend…" Bulma heaved an awesome sigh. "Wow."

Hana chugged the rest of her wine and stared miserably at the table. "It sure doesn't feel that way. I still get this impression that he barely tolerates me."

"Have a little more confidence in yourself. Here, I'll help." Bulma emptied the bottle into Hana's glass.

"Thanks."

"C'mon, enough with the glum face. Drink that up and let's go dance or something."

Hana managed a grin. "Okay."

.

* * *

.

Yamcha shifted his weight in the sand. "Your left foot should be further out," he said to Krillin, who was mirroring his pose across from him. "And then you swing your other foot over like this." He demonstrated.

"Like this?"

"Yeah, yeah, you got it. But your shoulders should be facing _this_ way…"

Master Roshi noticed Hana and Bulma rejoining the group and lowered his sunglasses at them. "Up to no good, eh, ladies?"

"Looks like drinking and gossiping to me," said Yamcha, earning himself a swift kick in the shin.

"So what if it was?" Bulma spat.

Hana sat at the picnic table and helped herself to a slice of watermelon, watching the couple argue.

"Are you having a good night?" came a voice from beside her. It was Tien, taking a seat. In the lights from the trees and the flames of the tiki torches, his three eyes glowed so strangely.

"I am, actually, yeah."

Puar and Oolong finally hung up their microphones and bowed to spattered applause. Had they really been singing karaoke for that long? Oolong flipped the stereo back on and changed it to something mellow. Tien rubbed his arms and Hana felt his weight shift on the bench. He really did have quite the handsome profile, with his square jaw and pointed nose. And his biceps were out-of-this-world ridiculous…

Chiaotzu popped up in between them and tugged their sleeves. "Neither of you have danced yet," he scolded. "Don't you think it's about time?"

Hana and Tien looked at each other.

Chiaotzu yanked them off the bench with surprising strength and pushed them towards the music. "Well go on, go on!"

Tien had gone completely red-faced. "I-I don't—_Chiaotzu_—"

"Hey, no worries," Hana said, taking his hand. "It's a party, isn't it? So why not? Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

For being a martial artist, and a damn good one at that, Tien sure couldn't dance to save his life. He kept stepping on her toes and fumbling the footing, and they weren't even dancing anything complicated. Master Roshi and the others gathered round, watching the two of them plodding through the song. Hana just laughed, which probably only hindered his concentration, but she couldn't help it. He was an absolute trainwreck on the dance floor.

When he ground his heel into the top of her foot, she stopped laughing and started wailing. "Owww ow ow!"

"Oh—shit! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—I-I'm sorry!"

Hana held onto his shoulders and bounced on her good foot. "Not your fault! Oww ow."

"Nice goin', Tien!" said Yamcha through cupped hands. "Instead of fighting Nappa, you should've just asked him to dance."

Tien bristled. "Remind me again how _you_ died?"

"How dare you."

An angry baritone cut in. "What are you children bickering about now?" Piccolo descended on the scene with a dramatic billow of his cape. He surveyed the situation and settled his attention on Hana. "Are you all right?"

She realized she was still clinging to Tien and let go, balancing gingerly on one foot. "Oh sure. Just a bruise."

Piccolo frowned. "You're bleeding, actually."

"Am I?" Indeed, she was. Tien must have tore the skin with the heel of his shoe.

"I'm really very sorry," said Tien. "Here, let me help—"

Piccolo shoved him aside and swept Hana up in his arms. "I'd sooner trust you with a houseplant," he sneered, and he turned from everyone and carried her into the house.

"Really now," said Hana, "you're making an awfully big fuss. It's not that bad." Piccolo sat her down on the window seat and left to fetch a few things from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, he knelt down in front of her, slipped off her shoe, and began to tend to her injured foot.

He said nothing as he worked, cleaning the blood from her skin.

The rubbing alcohol stung and Hana flinched. "Mmn." But as she watched, Piccolo parted his lips and blew on the wound just as she had done for him. She wanted to say something clever but no words would come.

He tore a length of gauze bandaging and wrapped it carefully around her foot. His hands were slow as he tended to her, his movements practiced, patient. Kind.

"My feet actually look small in your hands," she said, amused by the sight.

"Your feet _are_ small," he replied. "Your everything is small."

She wasn't sure if he meant that as a compliment, but that was certainly how she was going to take it. At the moment she felt anything but small. Sitting the way she was, the dress pinched into her sides and stomach, and she had to press her thighs together to keep from flashing him. Why on earth did Chi-Chi even own this dress? It was nothing but a nuisance.

Piccolo tied off the bandages and Hana wiggled her toes. "You really didn't have to do this, y'know," she said. He lifted his eyes to hers, and she greeted his gaze with a smile. "But…it's nice that you did. Thank you."

"Only returning the favor."

Hana got up and tried to put weight on the foot but it was still too sore to support her. "W-woah." She forced her hands down on Piccolo's caped shoulders to keep herself upright. "Sorry, just gimme a sec."

"Take your time." His voice was oddly quiet and comforting.

The pale light from outside rested on his stoic face. Those three glasses of wine coursing through Hana's bloodstream were giving her awful ideas. How simple it would've been to just lean forward and press her lips to his…

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Hana tested her foot again. She was ready this time and leaned most of her weight on the other leg. "There we go. That's better."

Piccolo rose from his knees, watching her hobble experimentally around the room. "Would you like for me to take you home now?"

She glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen counter—it was nearly midnight. "That's probably a good ide—_oof!_" She tripped on her backpack left by the sofa and fell ass over teakettle onto the carpet. The walls spun for a second and then she was fine. Her dress, however, was not. She'd managed to tear the skirt seam all the way up her thigh to her hip. "Oh no!"

Piccolo went to her and kept her from trying to stand just yet. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, just my pride," she said. She held the rip closed around her thigh, mortified beyond belief. "And maybe my dignity a little. Man, look at this dress, though. Chi-Chi's gonna be so upset."

"Well at least now you have an excuse to change into something else." The weird relief in his tone made Hana raise an eyebrow at him. His ears went purple. "Err, I didn't mean—you don't look—"

"No, that's okay," she said with a tired laugh. "I'm well aware that I look like twelve hams in a trash bag."

"It's not…_that_ bad." He scratched at the back of his head, staring the dress down. "But how about this?" Before she had a chance to ask him to finish his thought, he pressed two sturdy fingers to her breastbone. Light exploded from his fingertips and engulfed her in warmth, tingling and bright. She knew that light. And when it faded, she stopped squinting and immediately checked the dress, expecting to see the tear repaired. What she saw instead was quite different.

"Oh my goodness…"

The dress was pale green and soft and covered her shoulders and arms and knees. Around her middle was a pastel pink sash which matched the small patterns of flowers that bloomed along the skirt. She had never worn anything so lovely in all her life. She traced the blossoms and felt along the decadent lace sleeves, her vision misting over.

"Is this one acceptable?" Piccolo asked.

All she could manage was a reverent whisper. "It's beautiful."

"Then it suits you perfectly."

Her eyes went to his face. This time there was no mistaking the compliment. "Thank you, Piccolo. I…needed that tonight." She smiled softly, giving his knee an affectionate pat.

He gulped. His ears were blushing again. "Hana—"

The front door opened and both of them yelped. Hana pulled her hand from Piccolo's knee just as Krillin and Maron came inside. Krillin had both his arms wrapped around Maron's waist and the two of them were giggling like high school sweethearts. "How's it going in here?" he asked. "What're you guys, uh…doing?"

"Ooo, looks private," Maron said coyly.

Piccolo hurried to his feet and shoved through the two lovebirds to get outside.

"H-hey!" Hana called after him. She stood with some effort and went to the door, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Had he already left so fast?

Krillin huffed. "Well what the heck was _his_ problem?"

The moon and stars were all Hana could see in the sky. She looked from one to the other, hoping to catch a glimpse of his white cape in the moonlight in spite of her mounting despair. He didn't seem to be returning any time soon. "He's a jerk," she said, shoulders sagging. "_That's_ his problem."

Krillin chuckled under his breath. "That's not exactly news to me."

Hana kicked a seashell by her foot. "Me neither." She kept a lookout for another moment or so before turning back to Krillin and Maron with a sad, embarrassed grin. "And unfortunately, that jerk was my ride home."

.

* * *

.

The air-car touched down at the curb in front of the little blue house on the coast. The streetlamps cut through the late-night fog. Bulma set the parking brake and peered into the back seat at her passenger. "Home sweet home," she said. "Pretty cute place you got here."

"Thanks," said Hana, and as Yamcha got out to open the car door for her she gave her thanks a second time. "I appreciate the lift. It was really nice to meet you guys tonight. I had a lot of fun."

Yamcha gave her a too-rough pat on the back. "Us, too. Hey, if we ever all get together again sometime, consider yourself invited. Give Tien a chance to redeem himself on the dance floor." He laughed and it echoed across the empty cul-de-sac.

"Deal," said Hana. She fished her keys from her purse. "Thanks again, you two, truly. Sorry you had to go so far out of your way. Let me run inside real quick and I'll grab you some gas money."

"No, no!" said Bulma. "Wouldn't dream of it. If anyone should be paying for anything, it's Piccolo. It's not your fault he bailed."

"I guess…"

"And hey," Bulma continued, fixing her with a meaningful stare, "try not to get too discouraged, okay?"

Hana felt hot pinpricks at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled and willed them away. "I'll try. Thanks, Bulma."

Yamcha looked between the two girls and scratched at the nape of his neck. "Am I missing something? Are you speaking in code?"

Bulma let out an exasperated groan. "Don't worry your pretty head, Yamcha, just get your fine ass back in the car."

Hana waved goodbye to them and went to unlock the door. When she made it inside, the house was black and soundless. She stepped out of her shoes and left her purse and backpack in the hall. Her feet carried her to the sliding glass door past the living room and out onto the wooden deck.

She leaned on the railing. It was good to be home. Resting her chin on her palm, she gazed out at the wide expanse of dark ocean beyond the shoreline.

Even after taking Bulma's words to heart, she couldn't help but think she was partially to blame. Maybe she'd been too forward with Piccolo, got under his skin a little too much. She probably would've driven him off regardless of whether or not they were interrupted.

Piccolo was big and stern and imposing, but get too close and he was gone—like approaching a stag in the wild.

For a long time, she watched the water and felt sorry for herself.

"Just another guy you're gonna chase away in the end," she said, letting the distant crash of the waves swallow her voice. "Can't ever pick the easy ones, can you."

The sound of shifting tile came from the roof. Hana craned her neck to see, but it was too dark to make out anything. She chalked it up to sea gulls or the strong winds moving in from the south. She shivered, rubbing her arms, and went back inside to get ready for bed.

.

* * *

.

Piccolo stood with shoulders flush against the chimney. She'd nearly spotted him.

He let go of a held breath, fists forming at his sides. "Coward. Just go say something to her." But he couldn't bring himself to move, nor could he stand to leave. He felt pinned, frozen in place, out of control. His discipline was slipping. "What the hell's the matter with me…"

.

* * *

.

_THANK YOU for reading! Apologies for updating much later than my projection. I was battling writer's block and tonsillitis at the same time. My job has me working closely with children, so unfortunately I do tend to catch the odd germ or two from them. I'm mostly recovered now and am writing fine again. I hope the next chapter will be finished by Sunday - wish me luck!_


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